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fight Mrs. Langham. She can be a—er—a rather unscrupulous opponent, you know.”

Mr. Warburton felt and looked decidedly uncomfortable, and spoke with difficulty. He was a man of peace. He detested quarrels; scandal sickened him. He did his best to avoid and avert both in the town which was his pride.

Patricia drew herself up. Her eyes blazed. She beat her breast with her clenched hands. The ferocity of her expression appalled the worthy man.

“Fight!” she said, speaking between her clenched teeth in a low voice. “I’ll fight her to a finish—and I don’t care whose finish it is! I shall assist No. 2 Committee, or fight it en masse! It is a collection of snobs of the worst type! I’m an outsider! A courtesan!”

“Miss Weybourn!”

“Ask them! Ask Mrs. Percival Quesne Langham! She knows! She spends her life peeping into other people’s affairs! She is without sin!—without conscience—without anything but a desire to be everything in this tin-pot town!”

“My dear girl———”

“Fight! I feel like fighting the world! It doesn’t like me, and I don’t like it!”

Her expression changed swiftly. She spread her hands, shrugged her shoulders, sighed whimsically, and smiled.

“End of Round One,” she said. “The challenger wins on points, having the support of the principal onlookers.”

She gripped the surprised Mr. Warburton by the upper arm gratefully—a man-like gesture.

“Sorry I was rude about your town, Mr. Warburton. It’s a grand little town, and you’re not responsible for some of its inhabitants. Good-night.”

Mr. Warburton watched her disappearing figure with approving eyes, then he turned back into the theatre.

“So it’s ‘Queenie’ Langham, eh?” he mused. “I’m